Can you fix me?
by SpanishPerson
Summary: Home. People think it's a safe haven where no one can get you or try to hurt you. Warm bed and meals, surrounded with people who love you. That's how it use to feel to Aang, but now it's just a place he dreads coming back to. Will he ever escape his "home"? (AU) Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Going home

**_Hello, this is my first time writing a ATLA story so it probably won't be good. I don't want to discourage you from reading it, but I'm just giving you a heads up._**

**_This story just came into my head so really I'm just writing what feels right to me. It's a work in progress, so it's another heads up incase it takes me a while to update. (If I want to continue the story anyways.)_**

_**WARNING: Characters used in this story might be different from the ones in the show and comic book series.**_

_**Not anything major though. Like if I decide to include Toph and Zuko into the story Toph wouldn't be blind, only color blind and Zuko won't have a scar on his eye. I just can't make it work for them! Oh and Katara and Toph's would be the same age as Aang. Zuko and Sokka would be the same age. I will tell you of I decide to change something else.**_

_**…Dang. Now it sounds like I made major changes.**_

_**On with the story!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, including the show and comic books.**_

* * *

3rd Person P.O.V

He can see it. His house. Just as he's rounding the corner.

He runs across lawns to get to his house quicker.

From his perspective the blinds look closed and the car is gone. That's good right? It means _he_ isn't home, right?

Or maybe the car is in the garage, but the hope he's feeling pushes that thought away.

As he's running across the first lawn he knocks over a lawn gnome and trips. Great. His hand now hurts and has a big cut across it. Oh and it's starting to bleed a bit. Fantastic.

Should he waste what little bandages and rubbing alcohol he has left on his newly acquired cut? He shakes his head, deciding he might need them later for something more serious before he hastily gets back up.

Despite being able to see his house, there is still a big distance between him and his home.

Sneakers pounding on gravel, he urges for his legs to move faster.

His legs will ache later, but he doesn't care.

He's closer to his house, it's only thirty feet away.

Has the street to his home always been this long?

Twenty feet.

He narrowly dodges a misplaced lawn chair before leaping over the short white picket fence.

Ten feet.

He manages to win the tug-of-war match Mr. Johnson's bulldog arranged with his sweater.

Only a couple more feet

He's on his front lawn now.

He sees the front door!

Zero feet.

He pulls open the front door.

Heart pounding in his ears.

Breath coming in and out of his mouth in uneven pants.

He's late.

It's the first thing that registers in his head as he slams the door behind him and leans against it. And it's dark inside, but he's too high on adrenaline to really care.

He's late.

He's _fifteen_ minutes late.

And _he_ isn't here to punish him.

His book bag slips from his shoulders, he closes his eyes and slumps against the cool surface of the door and breathes a sigh of relief.

But only for a second because the next thing he knows is that a hand is tightly wrapped around his neck and he can't breathe.

He looks into the cold silver eyes of the man in front of him. He stomach churns as it always does when he looks into the man's eyes. He has the same eyes, but one of the big differences between his eyes and the man's is that he doesn't have an intense and burning hatred melted deep into them.

This man was practically a stranger to the teen. Yet he refused to leave the man that once held a place in his heart, because this man, this stranger, was his father.

The only family he had left.

"You're late Aang." The man hissed tightening his hold on the teen's neck.

"I…I k-know fuh-father." Aang managed to choked out. "I-I'm sorry, I w-was–"

"I don't care about your pitiful excuses!"

Aang stayed quiet and managed to swallow hard, an impressive feat considering his current situation. He knew what would happen if he interrupted.

"That's all you ever give me! Excuses!" The man roared before releasing his hold and dropping Aang to the ground. "And do not call me father! You are no son of mine."

"Y-yes fath- I-I mean Joshua." Aang corrected feebly with a sore throat.

He was sure the pale skin on his neck was going to have bruises tomorrow. He's either going to have to wear a turtle neck or some type of sweater or jacket.

"Good." Joshua says coldly before grabbing and lifting his son off the ground by his collar, "Now about your punishment…"

Aang's eyes widen in panic and fear, but he should've know what was to come. He hates the fear he has for the man he calls his father, nothing is ever enough to sooth his ever going rage.

Aang, lost in thought, should've paided attention. At least then he could've blocked the first hit against his torso.

He was roughly thrown to the ground again and only had a couple of precious seconds to breathe again before Joshua kicked him in the ribs. He grunts in pain, determined not to let his father see how much pain it truly causes him.

Aang wishes his mother was here, but she died years ago by a house fire they were stuck in. He's lucky to have made it with only minor injuries and a burn on his back, but his mother was not so lucky. He remembers clearly his father's anguished cries and how he blamed Aang for her early departure from the world. How he wished it was him instead of his mother and then…the beatings started. At the tender age of twelve and still going on at sixteen.

He smiles for a brief moment as he remembers how bright his mother's smile use to be before it turns into a grimace as the pain on his body increases.

Another barrage of kicks come next followed by a punch to his back. He screams out at the searing pain. Even if its been years and the wound has long since healed, it still hurts if you hit him hard enough.

Joshua tries to plant his fist on his son's jaw, but Aang moves in the nick of time and Joshua only manages to hit the hard wood floor. He curses as he clutches his hand while Aang quickly gets to his knees to try and scamper off.

He doesn't get far.

He never does.

Joshua grabs Aang by the ankle and yanks him back. Pulling him close enough so he can grab a hold a Aang's short dark brown, almost black, hair. Once Joshua has a fistful he yanks his hand back effectively pullings Aang's head backwards in the process.

"Where do you think you're going?" Joshua whispers coldly, "We just started."

Those words alone managed to freeze Aang's blood and send a cold chill up his spine. With that Joshua pulled back his fist before launching it right to the side of Aang's head and letting his only son fall into, blissful, unconsciousness.

TBC…

* * *

**_…Yeah. It's not very good. I'm guessing you're al wondering why I have Aang being abused, by his father no less, but you have to understand that it's part of the story. And no I won't make Aang out as some weakling who always needs saving, but he will need help from to time._**

**_So far you know Aang is sixteen, (most likely a sophomore or junior 'cause of his age), he has an abusive father, a late mother, a scar on his back, silver eyes and dark brown hair._**

**_(If there are any mistakes, which I'm sure there are, please tell me.)_**

**_So…tell me what you think._**

**_Also, thank you for reading and whatever review you might leave._**


	2. Another day

**_Hello again. I just wanted to say that throughout this story I will most likely update randomly. So sometimes it might be a while before I update or it might not be. Also thank you for whatever review you left and for following and whatever else you might have done._**

**_(If there are any mistakes please tell me so I can fix them.)_**

**_WARNING!: There might be OOCness and pairings you won't like in this story._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own A:TLA or any of the characters._**

* * *

3rd Person P.O.V

Numerous video games cases and clothes are recklessly set on the floor. Empty energy drinks covered the floor and several used paper plates are piled on top of a desk with a half eaten pizza by a game system.

A body is lying on the bed, tangled up in dark blue bed sheets. Loud snores are heard throughout the moderately sized room. The body is the source. Who is this person imitating a chainsaw?

It's a teenage boy.

He doesn't at all look bothered by the loud noise in fact he looks like he's having a wonderful rest, if the drool pooling onto the bedspread and pillow hugging are any indicators. Other than the snoring there's nothing disturbing the calm scene.

Birds are singing outside. A cool breeze is coming in through a window that wasn't fully closed.

The sound of trees rustling in the wind can be heard outside. The sun is peaking in through the thin wavering curtains, waking the boy up slightly with it's bright beam.

It's so peaceful and all the boy wants to do is go back to sl—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEE– _Thwack!_

The annoying beeping sound stops, thank the spirits for a 'snooze' button, but the boy is already awake. Might as well look at what made that stupid sound.

It's a navy blue alarm clock.

Though he's still groggy from the abrupt waking, he manages to read the time. It reads 7:59 AM.

Oh, it's only 7:59 AM.

…Wait?

_7:59!?_

Correction: It's 8 o' clock now.

He gapes at the clock, hoping the clock is wrong, willing it to change and that it's an hour ahead of schedule. But it's not wrong and the big red bold numbers are staring right back at him.

He pales considerably.

He is in trouble.

He is in _so_ much trouble!

His sister is going to murder him.

His _teenage_ sister is going to murder him!

Teenage girls are so much scarier than normal girls.

Anyways, she specifically told him not to play his games all night because he might oversleep. And what do he do? Oh right, he ignores her because he think it's unmanly to get bossed around by his little sister.

_'Katara's going to kill me!'_

So what if he's afraid of his little sister. It's not unmanly! He has good and legit reasons!

Besides she's friggin' scary when she mad.

And she was going to be mad.

He barely suppresses the shiver of fear trying to crawl up his spine.

He bounces off the bed to run to his dresser. He carelessly throws on the clothes he randomly picked, not caring if they were rumpled or not.

After that's done he runs to a seemingly random door and comes out a second later with a dirty sock over his head and another shirt draped over his shoulder.

Oops.

Wrong door.

He meant to go to the identical door on the right for a bathroom break, not the closet full of junk to the left.

After a quick bathroom break and brushing his hair and teeth he leans over the sink deciding whether or not to shave his nonexistent beard.

_'Maybe I shouldn't. Besides the ladies like a bit of hair.'_

With that decision made he makes a beeline for the door.

He chances a quick look at the alarm clock.

It's 8:15 AM.

Crap.

_'Time to wake up Katara.'_

He couldn't contain the shiver this time as he went out his door and to his sister's.

* * *

Aang's House — Aang's P.O.V

7:30 AM.

I stood shirtless, looking at myself in the mirror. To say what I saw in the mirror wasn't pretty would be an understatement.

I had various sized bruises scattered around my torso and back. Nail scratches were surrounded on my arms. Bandages were wrapped around the area where my skin broke and bled.

I looked up further, purposely skipping my neck, to look at my face. A busted lip, a bruised cheek and temple stared right back at me.

I looked down again, unfortunately I spotted the bruises on my neck that I got when I came home yesterday.

Home.

Is this even my home anymore?

It provides a roof over my head, a place to sleep, warm showers and meals. But is it really my home?

The answer popped into my head before I had time to think about it.

No, it's not my home.

It might've been my home when I was younger, but not anymore.

Though it provides great things, that doesn't always mean you're a welcomed guest. Is it wrong that I feel like I've been living in a stranger's home for four years?

I shake my head as I decide to leave that question unanswered. I look at the bright orange alarm clock by my bed.

It 7:40 AM.

I'm already dressed, I just need to put my shirt back on.

Once that's done I grabbed my backpack and my favorite jacket.

My mother originally bought this jacket for my father, but he saw how much I wanted it so he gave it to me.

I remember trying it on for the first time, it was so big on me. The sleeves hung way past my small arms and it stopped around mid thigh. I was practically engulfed in the jacket, I felt so embarrassed because of my small frame. I only felt better when my mother told me I looked adorable. My father was there too, laughing jovially and his silver eyes filled with affection. My parents told me that it would fit better as I got older and to save it for later.

The jacket itself was black and had blue lines going down each shoulder and stopping just before it reached the sleeve. The jacket also has another blue line going straight up the back and stopping at the end of the hood in an arrow.

I put it on and though it's slightly too big, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I look back at the clock.

It 7:45 AM.

I better start walking if I don't want to be late to school. It's Homecoming Week and we're having an assembly today at 8 o' clock.

I peek my head out of my bedroom door, there's a faint noise in the house. I listen closer and hear it's snoring.

I breathe in a sigh of relief.

He's asleep, but I still have to be careful not to wake him up. I open the door wider and tiptoe out of my room before quietly shutting the door behind me.

I cringe slightly at the loud click it makes, signifying that it has closed properly. I looked around both sides of the hallway, specifically the left since that's where Joshua's room is.

The snoring doesn't stop, that's a good sign.

I steadily walk to the stairs, trying to ignore the prickles of fear gnawing at my stomach.

I walk down them carefully, trying not to make any of the stairs creak with my added weight.

I succeed in making it down without any noise. I walk towards the door quickly and open it.

The scent of freshly mowed lawns hit my nose. I breathe the scent in greedily before walking out the door and shutting it behind me.

I walk down the driveway and to the sidewalk. I wave halfheartedly to the people greeting me and wave off their attention concerning my injuries. As I walk at a comfortable pace, my mind wanders.

It's another day of school. Another day of lying to my friends about my injuries. Another day of fearing what will happen to me once I get home. And another day of worrying about somebody finding out what my own father does to me.

Really, it's just like any other day I've been living for the past four years. Filled with stress, guilt, fear and paranoia.

_'Yeah.'_ I think as I see the school, _'I__t's just another day.'_

* * *

3rd Person P.O.V

This is bad.

This _is_ bad.

She's late.

She is _very_ late.

Twenty-five minutes late to be exact.

But she got here at 8:50 AM and she _was_ suppose to be here at 7:45 AM.

So really she was an hour and five minutes late.

And on her first day of school.

That totally screams 'responsible'.

Not!_  
_

Though she guesses it was to be expected with a brother like hers.

A brothers who doesn't listen to her even though he knows she's right. A brother who would rather take the easy way out more than taking the hard way. A brother who woke up late then proceeded to wake her up and rush _her_ to get ready for school.

A brother who she absolutely loves, but at the same time hates this very moment.

The very same brother gathering both of their school supplies from the trunk of his car and sloppily shoving them in their respective backpacks.

She sighs in frustration as he hands her purple backpack to her.

"This wouldn't have happened if you didn't play your games all night Sokka." the teenage girl said exasperatedly.

"Well _sorry_ Katara. I didn't mean to upset her royal Highness!" Sokka said in annoyance.

She decides to ignore that comment, "The school doors are probably locked anyways."

"Why would the school doors be locked?" Sokka asks.

"For safety reasons probably." Katara says with a shrug.

"Well, whatever. We'll find out when we get there." Sokka said in a dismissive voice.

Katara rolls her cerulean blue eyes, identical to her brother's eyes, before walking towards the school building.

"Come on," Katara called over her shoulder "I don't want to be even more late than I already am."

Sokka doesn't say anything as he catches up to her. They walk the short distance to the school in comfortable silence. All signs of precious annoyance and exasperation gone to be replaced by nervousness as they stop in front of the glass doors.

_'Calm down Katara. It's only a school.'_ The teenage girl thinks to herself, _'So what if it's your first day here. It's just like any other day. Except you don't know anybody and you're in unfamiliar territory.'_

She glances at her brother, hoping to see the same nervousness as hers. But instead sees his jaw set stubbornly and his eyes facing the door determinedly. Inspired by his sudden change, she regains her composure and takes in a deep breaths and exhales slowly.

Inhale.

_'Stay calm.'_

Exhale.

_'It's only a school.'_

Inhale.

_'It's just another day.'_

Exhale.

_'Just another day.'_

She takes on more deep breath before sharing a look with her brother.

He smirks lazily, "Ready?"

"Ready." She says with a smile.

They turn back to the door and slowly turn the handle.

It's not locked.

They open the door and go inside.

They don't see anybody. The hallways are silent and empty, but that's to be expected since everybody should be in class.

They don't bother going to the office for their schedules, their father got them the week before. They walk to their homerooms, bracing themselves for the scolding they're going to get.

Except they don't. No scolding for being late or interrupting the class. No nothing. There isn't even students or a teacher in the room.

They look in the next classroom hoping for some answers.

No one.

They look in another classroom, confusions deeply etched in their minds.

No one again.

_'Where is everyone?'_ They both thought.

The siblings decide to look in one more classroom.

And surprise, surprise. There's no one in sight.

In fact so far all the classrooms look the same.

Empty.

"Holy crap!" Sokka yells out suddenly, "Are we being Punk'd?!"

Katara raises one eyebrow skeptically at her brother, "Sokka, I'm pretty sure we're not being Punk'd."

He turns to her, "You don't know that! Maybe this an elaborate plan made by dad to make me confess something."

"Sokka–"

He turns on his heel facing a random wall, "Well it's not going to work dad! Because I know all about your little plan!"

"Sokka really–"

"You were in on it too weren't you?!" He interrupts again to point at her accusingly.

Hands on her hips, she glares at him. "Now wait just a minute!–"

"Ah ha! So you admit it?!" He asks.

"Admit what?!"

"That you–"

"I didn't–"

"–elaborate plan!"

"–idiotic ideas!"

"Ugh! Can you two shut the hell up! Some of us are trying to sleep here!" A disembodied female voice yelled, interrupting the quarreling siblings.

"Did you hear that?" Sokka whispered.

"Yeah. What do you think it was?" Katara whispered.

"I don't know. A ghost, maybe?" He answered.

Before Katara could comment on her brother's ludicrous answer a new voice interrupted her.

"She's not a ghost you idiot."

"What is she then? A ghoul? She sure do sound like it." Sokka said venomously, pride a bit stung from the previous comment.

A tense silence was settled over the once active atmosphere then footsteps can be heard throughout the hall before a classroom door on Katara's right was slammed open.

"What did you say about my girlfriend?" A tall, black haired teenager asked darkly from the doorway.

"N-nothing." Sokka stuttered.

"No, really. What did you say about my girlfriend." He asked again, coming closer and his gold eyes flashing.

"I-I-I–" Sokka stammered, while Katara hid behind him.

Suddenly a loud laughing came from the open door, filling the once silent hallway.

"You should've seen your faces!" The disembodied female voice said.

The black haired boy's face broke into a small smirk, "She's right. Now come on out Toph. I think we scared them enough."

A black haired girl walked out of the door before walking to the boy and grabbing his hand. She was inches shorter than the boy and had milky green eyes.

"I don't know, I think we could've scared them more Hothead." She replied with a smug smile.

TBC…

* * *

**_…Yeah the ending sucked._**

**_There's a reason Katara and Sokka acted afraid of Toph and the boy. It's because they don't know them so they don't know what they're capable of. Just wanted to clear that up._**

**_So this is the second chapter. I hope you like it and don't worry about offending me. I know my chapters can be short so if you want longer chapters just tell me via review or PM._**

**_Thanks again for reading and whatever reviews you might leave._**


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